


higher than the ceiling, hotter than the sun

by mccutiepants (i_am_ammo), the_eighth_sin



Series: The View From Down Here [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - D/s, Anal Sex, BDSM, Come play, D/s, Daddy Kink, M/M, Nipple Play, Pain, Possessive Behavior, Temperature Play, light limit testing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_ammo/pseuds/mccutiepants, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_eighth_sin/pseuds/the_eighth_sin
Summary: “You gonna come on just my dick?” Brandon asks, and that is something they’ve been trying for. Jake can do it with the prostate massager, and he managed a few weeks ago with just one of Brandon’s fingers resting right under the head of his dick. He's never actually managed to come on just Brandon’s dick though.“M...maybe?” Jake says, still circling his hips, trying to keep up the same rhythm that had him right at the edge a few moments before.“See if you can, sweetheart, and we'll do something nice today, okay? Something real nice.”Jake whimpers out a yes and keeps trying.





	higher than the ceiling, hotter than the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer applies: This is fiction. It's us imposing our thoughts and feelings on constructs based on real people and should not be viewed as anything other than fiction. Please do not share this with anyone portrayed in it and we'll get along just fine. If you found this by googling yourself, at this point you should know to just turn around and leave. Thank you!
> 
> The "Light Limit Testing" tag is for Brandon testing Jake's mental limits. This is a planned, consensual scene between two parties and if our Jake character actually felt like he was being pushed too much he would safe-word out.

Jake wakes up sore, an ache in his arms and a vicious bruise on his side that makes breathing hurt just enough to be annoying. They don't have practice today and even though it’s already later than they normally get up, Jake kind of just wants to roll back over and pass out again.

“I know you're awake.” Brandon’s voice is low, and Jake turns to look at him slowly. He's reading, glasses perched on his nose and looking like every cliche from a romance movie Jake has ever seen. 

He pushes the quilt back, knee walking until he can swing a leg over Brandon’s thighs and settle on his lap. Brandon’s iPad gets pushed to the side in the process, and then they're kissing. 

“Fuck me?” Jake asks softly, voice still rough from sleep and Brandon sighs, faux put upon, but he's already reaching for the lube. Jake reaches back to feel at his hole, still a little lube slick from the night before, when they'd come home euphoric from the win and Brandon had bent him over in the entryway and prepped him, fast and messy. 

“I don't need much,” Jake tells him, ducking close for a kiss, tugging Brandon’s hand away from his face where he was reaching for his glasses. “You should leave them.”

Brandon laughs, startled. “Want me to put you in uniform and pretend to be Professor Prust?” Jake laughs too but doesn't shake his head. 

“Maybe. But I like them.”

“You like them?” 

Jake nods. “You look older, it, fuck, it's easier.” 

Brandon chucks him under the chin carefully, asks, “Easier?”

“Yes, daddy.” The ‘easier to call you daddy’ goes unspoken and that's answer enough for Brandon because he doesn't say anything else. Just urges Jake up so he can push down the sheets, dick half hard just from Jake’s weight squirming in his lap, and the awed, terrified way he says ‘daddy’ every time.

Slicking his dick helps get him most of the way there and he nudges Jake’s thigh with his free hand to get him to shuffle forward, tilts his hips until Brandon’s dick is nudging up against his hole, hot, blunt pressure. 

“Ask me nicely.” Brandon says, and Jake sucks in a breath through his teeth, holding himself just so.

“Please fuck me, daddy?” He says quickly, and Brandon grins with too many teeth, flexing his hips just enough to sink part way into Jake. His mouth goes slack with pleasure and Jake clenches down around him unconsciously. “Please, daddy,” he says again, shaking with the need to seat himself fully. 

“Go ahead, buddy,” Brandon tells him and he drops down fast enough that it stings a little, the sudden stretch. 

They don't fuck like this very often, Jake’s always conscious of how big he is, even compared to Brandon. Sometimes it's enough to pull him out of the headspace, catching sight of his own body, thighs thick with muscles, stomach rounded out a little with the strength of his core, arms and hands as big and thick around as Brandon’s are. It's fine this morning though, slow and easy and so good Jake just closes his eyes and relaxes into it.

The slower pace does nothing to make Jake last, in fact, he thinks he gets there faster, right at the edge before Brandon is even starting to sweat. Jake’s hair is already damp with the exertion, lifting up and back down onto Brandon’s dick. 

“Daddy,” he whimpers, voice soft, “can I come?” 

“Already?” Brandon says, and he sounds genuinely surprised. It makes humiliation settle heavy in Jake’s gut, cheeks heating. 

“Ye-yeah, daddy, it feels good.” Jake tilts his hips, still screwing down onto Brandon but trying to put space between his dick and Brandon’s stomach where he’s rubbed a slick trail. It has almost the opposite effect, the new angle stretching Jake even more and making Brandon’s dick press more firmly against his prostate. He moans, can't help it, chin dropping down to rest on his chest. 

“You gonna come on just my dick?” Brandon asks, and that is something they’ve been trying for. Jake can do it with the prostate massager, and he managed a few weeks ago with just one of Brandon’s fingers resting right under the head of his dick. He's never actually managed to come on just Brandon’s dick though. 

“M...maybe?” Jake says, still circling his hips, trying to keep up the same rhythm that had him right at the edge a few moments before. 

“See if you can, sweetheart, and we'll do something nice today, okay? Something real nice.” Jake whimpers out a yes and keeps trying. 

There are a long few minutes of silence, just the noise of skin on skin, Jake moaning, Brandon’s heavy breathing.

“You need me to help?” Brandon asks when Jake starts to get redder in the face, a crease between his eyebrows. 

Jake shakes his head. Nods. Shakes it again. 

“I... I can't... I want it, da...daddy, please.” Brandon pulls him closer, rests Jake’s forehead on his shoulder, uses his free hand to still the almost frantic jerking of Jake’s hips. 

“Hey, it's okay. We don't have to try. But if you really want to, tell me what I can do? Let daddy help you.” Jake breathes wet and shaky against his skin. 

“My, my nipples.” He says finally. 

“You want me to play with your tits baby?” Brandon asks, and Jake’s head moves in a nod. “Okay. Sit back for me again, let me see.”

Jake sits back again, groaning when it makes Brandon’s dick shift inside him incrementally. Brandon cups around the sides of Jake’s chest, thumbs resting on his nipples and then pushing down hard. Jake jerks, an involuntary movement at the sudden burst of pressure. “How's that?” Brandon asks. 

“More.” Jake chokes out, and Brandon rubs, still pressing hard, moving the skin of Jake’s chest. Jake starts moving again, mouth hanging open as he gasps for air. “More.” He says again, and Brandon pulls back until he can pinch, just getting the tips of Jake’s nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing until Jake makes a high pitched noise. Jake grabs for Brandon’s shoulders, bouncing a little in his lap as he tries to make himself come, dick bobbing free. 

“Good?” Brandon asks, and Jake just moans, fucking himself harder and faster until Brandon is barely holding on himself, lost in the rhythmic clutch of Jake’s body, squeezing tightly at Jake’s nipples in the same rhythm. 

When Jake finally comes, he curls over Brandon’s hands, head ducked low and silent as his dick jerks and sputters, getting come all over his stomach, some of it hitting Brandon’s chest. It looks almost painful and Brandon wants desperately to see Jake’s face, see how he looks, see if there are tears in his eyes, see if he looks surprised.

He stays rigid once he's stopped coming, dick still hard and a dark red, holding onto Brandon so hard he’s probably bruised in the pattern of Jake’s fingers all across his shoulders. 

Brandon grits his teeth as Jake slowly relaxes, muscle by muscle. When he finally looks at Brandon, he's so deep in subspace Brandon is amazed he's still sitting upright, still fluttering around Brandon’s dick like he can't help the instinct to make himself a tight hole to fuck. 

“Hey buddy,” Brandon says softly, “You did so good. I'm so proud of you.” 

Jake smiles, dazed and exhausted, still heaving in air in desperate gulps. Brandon smooths his hands down Jake’s back soothingly, waits until his breathing has settled into something more normal, even though every inch of his body is screaming to grab at Jake’s hips and fuck up until he comes. 

“You wanna give me a colour sweetheart?” he asks instead and watches Jake’s brain whir away, processing. It takes a good 30 seconds before Jake starts trying to work his mouth. He's thirsty and Brandon really needs to start leaving bottles of water in the dresser. 

It's another little while before Jake manages to make his mouth shape out the word ‘green’. That reassures Brandon that he’s okay to keep going. Jake’s told him over and over how much he likes Brandon to keep going in situations like this when he's so deep in his subspace that he’s dazed and wobbly and floating. It won't take long for Brandon to come anyway, and then he can get them both settled, make sure Jake is okay with him leaving to get them water.

Jake is a lot clingier whenever he calls Brandon ‘daddy’. 

“Okay, alright, that's so good baby. Let's make daddy come, huh?” He says, words tumbling out without thought as he reaches for Jake’s hips again, encouraging him to move. Jake tightens up again like a dream, and Brandon chokes on the next word out of his mouth as he starts moving, everything hot and tight, rougher with the lack of lube, maybe even hotter because of that, because Brandon knows he's fucking another load into Jake. 

It's that thought that makes him come, how owned Jake is, full of Brandon’s dick and come with his nipples dark and peaked where Brandon had touched them, his face red from the rub of Brandon’s beard. Anybody who went near Jake would know, know that he was somebodys...

Brandon groans gives himself a minute to uncurl his toes and then shifts sideways so Jake topples down onto the bed. His thighs are numb and tingling from Jake’s weight, but he'd never complain about that. 

“Still green, buddy?” Brandon asks, and Jake nods a little faster this time. 

“Thirsty, daddy.” He says, and Brandon nods. 

“Are you going to be okay if I go get us some water? I won't even be a minute.” Jake is quiet, considering, and then he nods.

Brandon doesn't bolt out of the bed, but he moves pretty fast, snagging two water’s out of the fridge and an energy bar from the box next to it. He's back in less than a minute, just like he told Jake. 

The water doesn't do much to bring Jake up, not even having to sit up can compete with Brandon holding the bottle to Jake’s lips and feeding the water to him. The energy bar helps a little, Brandon pressing a chunk to Jake’s hand and making him feed himself. He looks clearer when Brandon has finished chewing and folded up the wrapper. 

“How do you feel about taking today off?” He asks, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow again. 

“We are off today?”

Brandon smiles.

“We were going to go skate with Bo and Ben, remember? Run breakaways. I mean, are you okay if I cancel on them and we play today instead?” Jake’s nodding before he's finished. “Let’s shower first and then you can decide, okay?”

Jake still wants to cancel their workout plans after they're showered and dressed in underwear and t-shirts. He starts making breakfast while Brandon calls the guys and they sit and catch up on the news in silence while they eat.

“So what are we going to do? For my reward?” Jake’s grin is cheeky, and it makes Brandon want to give him whatever he wants.

“Your reward, huh?” He says instead. “I said we'd do something nice.”

“Yeah,” Jake says slowly, “if I managed to come untouched. And I did.”

“Yeah,” Brandon replies in the same tone, slightly mocking, “But I didn't say it was a reward. I didn't say who it would be nice for.” 

Jake’s eyes go dark and he settles back against his chair like he wants to go to his knees.

“Take off your shirt,” Brandon tells him, and Jake strips it off easily. “How do they feel?” He asks, nodding in the direction of Jake’s bare chest. 

“My nipples? They're fine, sensitive.” He still sounds confused, and Brandon's excited for the moment Jake understands. 

“Get them hard for me,” Brandon tells him, curling his hands around his coffee cup. 

Jake reaches for his chest obediently, and Brandon stops him with a shake of his head. “No hands.”

“No hands?!” Jake asks, incredulous, and Brandon quirks a disapproving eyebrow. 

“You're going to disrespect me and question my instructions? I thought you were being good today, buddy.” Jake swallows obviously but answers quickly. 

“I'm sorry, sir, I just don't know how.”

“Hm, you don't think you can make them hard thinking about me fucking you? Stretching you open?” Jake flushes and then looks down at his chest. Nothing happens. “Hm,” Brandon says again, “Get on your knees and get over here.”

Jake crawls quickly across the floor, not even wincing at the cold tile. Brandon puts his hand in Jake’s hair, tugs him closer until his chest is pressed up against Brandon’s shins. 

“There you go baby, you can rub your pretty little tits against me until they're nice and sore.” Jake mewls, and then does as he's told, the movement of his body against Brandon’s bare legs feels strange until it doesn't. Jake’s face is so red it looks hot to the touch, and it feels pretty warm when Brandon curls his fingers against Jake’s cheek, brushing along his eye socket. 

Jake keeps going, soft involuntary noises are torn out of him and then he stops all at once, panting again. He leans back, hands behind his back and arches his chest, displaying himself. Brandon’s breath catches. 

“How do you feel, baby?” Brandon asks. 

“Embarrassed,” Jake says, voice a little petulant. 

“But your dick is nice and hard, isn't it? And your nipples are all red and sensitive for me. Pinch them.” 

Jake’s hands come from behind his back quickly, pinching like he was told. 

“Harder,” Brandon tells him, and he obeys. “You can stop once I'm finished speaking, okay?”

Jake’s “Yes, sir,” is quiet but audible, and Brandon continues.

“Every time your nipples get soft today, you're going to come and tell me, and we're going to get them hard again. All day, until tonight when we go to bed, and I'm going to see how much they hurt, and I'm going to clamp them and then I'm going to fuck you on the floor, face down, and I'm only going to let you come if you manage to yank the clamps off just by rubbing your tits down on the carpet. How does that sound?” 

He finishes, and Jake keeps pinching for a second, tears in his eyes and his dick straining at the front of his boxers, and then let's go with an audible gasp of relief. 

“Uh,” Jake says, considering. “Uh, I have a question?”

Brandon nods. 

“If I can't do it, if I'm too sore, when will I get to come?”

Brandon doesn't even have to think about it before he speaks. 

“When you earn it.”

 

They sit down to watch a movie, and it's maybe 15 minutes before Jake starts squirming, sitting up straight and turning to Brandon. He ignores him, keeps staring at the tv even as he's not taking any of it in. 

“I...” Jake says. “They're not....” 

“Spit it out,” Brandon says, and Jake stumbles over saying. 

“They're not hard anymore.”

“Good boy. Come here.” Jake moves closer on the couch. Brandon pats his thigh and Jake takes the hint, sitting across his lap in much the same way they were that morning. He's wearing a shirt again, a thin, tight, white one that Brandon picked because it means he can see where Jake’s nipples are, darker than the rest of his skin. 

He fastens his mouth to the left one over Jake’s shirt without a word. He sucks hard enough to bunch the material up and he has to let go, pull it taut and go back to sucking, mouth wide and wet. Jake jerks when Brandon just keeps going, sucking meanly until his shirt is soaked in a ring and his nipple is pink and standing up hard enough to lift the tight, wet material. 

“You can play with that one while I'm busy.” He says, and then ducks his head again, getting his mouth on Jake’s other nipple. He sucks hard again, teeth digging in and getting a nice seal. He doesn’t check to make sure Jake is touching himself, trusts him to follow instructions. 

When he pulls back Jake is hard again, the front of his boxers slowly soaking through where the head of his dick is wet. He's touching his left nipple lightly, and Brandon blows cold air across them both just to watch Jake shiver. 

“Okay.” He says, satisfied. “Sit down.” Jake pulls away shakily and Brandon can't help smirking every time he looks over and catches sight of Jake’s shirt slowly drying in the chill of the living room. 

It's a little longer this time before Jake says anything, ends up on Brandon’s lap again before he's managed to say, “They're not hard.”

“Ask me to get them hard for you,” Brandon says, rewarding Jake with a kiss when he says,

“Please, sir, get my nipples hard.”

This time Brandon pushes the shirt up around Jake’s armpits and makes him hold it there. His nipples already look more pink than normal, but that doesn't stop Brandon from flicking at them carefully, catching first one and then the other with the flat of his nail over and over. Jake starts out silent, and then he starts coughing up little ‘uh, uh’ noises each time.

“Thank me,” Brandon growls, and Jake says,

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“For what?” Brandon asks, changing the angle of his hand so that he’s hitting a different section. 

“Thank you for making my nipples hard.” Jake sounds less like it hurts to say every time. When Brandon is done he lets Jake stay on his lap, just pulls him down until he's slumped against Brandon’s chest. 

He does it twice more before Jake is shaking so hard Brandon is worried about him, his lips red and swollen where he’s biting at them.

“Are you okay, baby? Do you need something? You just gotta ask.”

“I...I...” Jake stutters, moaning and shifting around on Brandon’s lap like he just can’t help himself. “I don’t think I can hold it.”

Brandon had wondered how long Jake would manage. This morning he hadn’t come properly, had stayed hard almost all through their shower, he’s not surprised Jake needs help. He pulls a cock ring out of the side table next to the sofa.

“You think this will help, baby?” he asks, but he’s already pushing Jake to sit up, pulling down the waistband of his boxers, getting hold of his dick and balls and carefully pushing the cock ring over them. It sits snug at the base of his dick and some of the tension leaches out of Jake’s muscles immediately. “Better?” Brandon asks.

Jake’s “Yes, sir,” is lost in a moan as Brandon pinches at his nipples again. They’re red now, his chest and neck flushed dark, his nipples even darker. Brandon wants them to hurt by the time he clamps them that evening, wants Jake to struggle tomorrow when he has to pull on a shirt. Secretly, in the depths of fantasies he hasn’t even told Jake about, wants the team to see, wants one of them to comment on them, summon Jake over with a gesture and make him kneel while they look at him, look at what Brandon has done to him.

The credits are just starting to roll when Jake sits back again, arms behind his back.

“Please make my nipples hard, daddy,” he asks, voice clear over the music from the tv.

“I think you should practice for later,” Brandon says carefully. Jake blinks once, twice, three times, surfacing enough to try and understand what Brandon is saying. “Down on the floor, ass up.” 

Jake moves slowly, and now that he’s a little further away Brandon can see the way he’s damp with sweat everywhere, his shirt wet at his back. He gets down to his knees and Brandon palms over his own dick. It never stops being scorchingly hot the way Jake is like this, the way he needs it, the way he lets Brandon in, lets Brandon take and take and empty him out.

“There you go, good boy,” Brandon tells him, reaching for the tv remote to turn it off as the movie credits finish up and loop around to the menu. Jake shivers as he leans down, pushing his chest into the carpet and arching his back so his ass stays up high, exactly how Brandon wants him later. 

He's shivering slightly, and Brandon leans forward enough to get his hand on the base of Jake’s back, right where it arches up into the curve of his ass. He breathes a little easier immediately and Brandon makes a gruff approving sound, not as unaffected by all of this as Jake probably thinks he is. 

It takes another second for Jake to start moving, and he whimpers a hurt noise immediately, mouth open, head turned to the side. 

“Getting sore, kid?” Brandon asks, and Jake can't even verbalise a yes, just nods his head, keeping his eyes on Brandon’s even as they start to fill with desperate tears. Brandon doesn't imagine it feels good on his already sore nipples, even through his shirt, but Brandon keeps him there for longer than he probably needs to, enjoying the view. 

When Brandon lets Jake up, he scrambles up immediately to sit beside Brandon, worm under his arm, chest heaving and held carefully away from Brandon’s body. That's not what he wants though, and he pulls Jake snug against his side, smiling at the way it makes him whine. 

Brandon settles a possessive hand over the straining curve of Jake’s dick. The front of his briefs is damp and Brandon curls his fingers teasingly around the shaft, jacking him through the material a handful of times. 

It takes longer for Jake to calm down this time, for the quiet murmurs and moans to trail off, for him to relax down against Brandon. It takes longer still for Jake to need to ask, “Daddy, please can you make my nipples hard.”

He doesn't even mind the way it sounds almost rote, the pattern of the words worn in already. 

Brandon pulls Jake back onto his lap, legs spread wide over his thighs, holding tightly to the sofa on either side of Brandon’s shoulders. Brandon pulls Jake’s shirt off completely and Jake is so far gone he doesn't even try to curl up and hide like he usually does when Brandon gets him out of his shirt. 

He lets himself look at all the parts of Jake he usually tries so hard to cover up, all of him on display for Brandon. The best part of it is Jake’s chest. The flush from his face spills down his neck and into his chest, morphing into a deep pink when it hits Jake’s pecs. His nipples are already a deep red, abraded slightly from the carpet and swollen. Brandon wants to get his mouth all over them. He restrains himself though, flicks careful thumbs over them until they stiffen up again. Brandon sticks to just that the next three times Jake asks him, that edge of desperation in his voice building and building until Brandon can see what it costs him to speak, to ask for it. He loves making Jake ask to be hurt.

Brandon carefully doesn’t lose track of time, stopping periodically to feed careful sips of water to Jake. Even so, it feels like no time at all before it’s past time for lunch. Brandon tugs Jake to his feet and pulls him gently into the kitchen, snagging a pillow from the couch for Jake to kneel on. He makes them both sandwiches, cutting Jake’s up into bite sized squares and feeding him it piece by piece while he makes his way methodically through his own.

Jake sinks down into the pillow and leans his head against Brandon’s thigh when he stands to the side of Jake. This, the hand feeding, it’s something they talked about when Jake first started subbing for Brandon, and it’s only become something more and more important to them as they’ve gone on. It’s something they both enjoy, something nonsexual that still lets Jake wind down, helps him feel taken care of, Brandon relaxing while he does the caring. They’ve fallen into the habit of doing it when they eat with the team on the road. Nobody even blinks anymore, not even the guys they had to call up after a spate of injuries.

After lunch, Brandon gets them both big glasses of ice water and then pushes Jake to lay down on the couch, tweaking his nipples lazily when Jake asks. He flicks the tv to something neither of them cares about and then waits, watching Jake intently, waiting for him to ask. A second later, Brandon gets rewarded for his patience. 

“Please make my nipples hard, daddy,” Jake says, a tremor in his voice like he knows what Brandon is thinking.

Brandon leans down and tongues at Jake's nipples for a second, encouraging the blood to surge back to the surface, then he pulls away and reaches for his glass, taking a long pull of water until his teeth hurt from the cold, holding a piece of ice on his tongue. This time, when he puts his mouth to Jake's chest, he yelps, hands shooting up to grab at Brandon's shoulders shivering at the cold.

He doesn't push. Brandon didn't even have to train him out of it. Jake never wants to push him away, not really. He does squirm around though until Brandon pulls back and grabs his chin roughly.

"Hold still, baby." he says around the ice, and then leans down again and presses it back to Jake's skin.

Jake sounds like he's crying, taking big breaths and trembling as Brandon holds the ice to his skin. He doesn't spare a second to lean back and check though, too occupied by the cold of the ice on his tongue and the heat of Jake’s swollen nipples on his lips. 

Once the ice has melted, Brandon pulls away to kiss Jake softly, surprised when Jake’s hands come up to curl around the back of his hands, holding him close while Jake throws himself into the kiss, licking into Brandon’s mouth until every trace of chill is gone.

The ice keeps Jake's nipples hard for a while, and then even after he's warmed up and Brandon looks him over with a considering eye, Jake shudders and his nipples perk up all by themselves right under Brandon's gaze.

Brandon swallows heavily. He wanted to do more. He wanted to wait until later when the sun was setting and he could go to sleep right after without risking waking up at 3 am. 

But. 

Neither of them can wait any longer. 

He counts to ten carefully, still watching Jake, watching the way he trembles steadily, but holds Brandon's gaze. His eyes are glazed and dark, and Brandon can't help looking at the deep red of his chest, pecs swollen, nipples hard, and want to drag him into the bedroom.

"Get naked and go wait for me in the bedroom," Brandon says a second later, voice gravelly.

Brandon doesn't keep all of their toys in the bedroom, has to dig through a tangle of chain and leather to get to the clamps he decided on earlier. He palms them carefully and goes to Jake, stops with his toes just nudging up against Jake's knees, where he's kneeling in the middle of the floor, waiting just like Brandon asked.

"You're a good kid," Brandon says, and then lets the clamps slip from his palm to dangle right in Jake's eye line.

He rears back, shocked. 

The clamps Brandon chose are vicious, uncovered metal and sharp teeth, jaws that'll get a nice chunk of skin. They're going to hurt, more than Brandon usually hurts Jake, but not more than he can take, Brandon doesn't think.

They both like when Brandon pushes limits.

"You're lucky I don't make you put these on yourself," Brandon tells him quietly and ignores the muffled sound of horror that Jake chokes on. Brandon strokes over his head, fingers tangling in his hair, damp with nervous sweat, and arousal. Brandon is ignoring the way Jake's dick is curving up towards his stomach, pink and thick.

Brandon licks his thumb, brushing over Jake's nipple softly with his left hand, while he opens the clamp with the other and teases at letting it close over Jake's nipple, letting the teeth catch and start to press in before pulling away again. Jake shakes, and Brandon nudges his thighs apart further until he's almost sitting on the ground, steadier.

Brandon counts down, "Three, two, one", lets Jake brace for the pain, and then lets the teeth bite.

Jake's back bows and he bites down on his lip so hard Brandon is worried he’ll bite right through it and draw blood. He's completely silent somehow, and that's not usually how Jake handles pain, usually he shouts and cries and Brandon drinks it down like it's the best sound he's ever heard.

Brandon doesn't give Jake time to get over it, for the sharp pain to mellow out into a throb, just gives Jake the same, "Three, two, one" count, and then clamps the other nipple.

Jake jerks so hard, Brandon almost tears the clamp right off again, he starts crying immediately, fat helpless tears, and Brandon feels nauseous he's that turned on, dick already aching. He still has so much more he wants to do. 

He brushes Jake’s tears away with his thumbs, ignoring the way they're replaced by fresh ones almost immediately. He rubs his wet thumbs just above Jake’s nipples, where the skin is tight and hot from being played with for hours. He's still quiet, sitting there, every muscle rigid with the pain, while Brandon tugs at the clamps gently, flicks them back and forth, twisting them a little, squeezing the tips so they bite even harder, getting lost in it until Jake starts to make noise, a soft keening sound that escapes with every  
breath. 

Brandon feels lightheaded with need, every tiny noise he squeezes out of Jake just ramps everything up higher until all he wants is to push him down and _fuck_.

He does push Jake down to the floor, but not for what he really wants. He has a plan and he's going to stick to it. 

He kneels up behind Jake, muscles him out of the last of his clothes, pushes until Jake is positioned exactly like Brandon wants him, face down, knees tucked under him, ass tilted up so Brandon has access. Brandon opens him up slow and careful, playing with him as he stretches him out, working to get Jake open and slick. Jake’s moans fluctuate between ones of clear pleasure and gritted-teeth groaning at the pain in his chest. 

Brandon doesn't wait much longer after that before shoving at Jake’s shoulder with his spare hand, forcing his back into a deeper curve as he tries to keep from dislodging Brandon, three thick fingers wedged into his hole and spreading him inexorably wider. 

Jake gasps, genuinely shocked, when the clamps first touch the carpet, and Brandon puts his free hand on the back of Jake’s head and tilts his face to the side so that Brandon can see him, his squeezed shut eyes and wide open mouth, desperately pulling in air like every breath doesn't spark agony.

“Go on,” Brandon tells him. 

Jake is silent, except for the sound of his hitched breathing, right up until he starts to move. 

The first real pressure against the clamps tears an honest to god scream from his throat, and Brandon laughs, can't even help the way it bursts out of him deep and throaty and still quieter than the sounds Jake is making, keening like a wounded animal as he tries to override the way his body naturally pulls away from what’s hurting it. 

He's struggling, Brandon can tell, and he doesn't say anything, but he does reach down and spread his hand wider on the back of Jake’s neck until his fingers press into either side of Jake’s throat in a cheap parody of a collar. It helps Jake to settle, clenching his jaw shut and hissing in air through his teeth. 

He presses his torso back down and against the carpet, writhing around, suddenly desperate. One of the clamps slips free with a clack as the teeth bite together without Jake’s flesh in the way. Jake tightens up around Brandon’s fingers hard enough to hurt, and then Jake’s whole body sags with relief, going lax and limp for all of a second before he realises that's only one done. Brandon grins. 

“You won't like it if I have to help you.” He tells Jake quietly, still working his fingers into Jake. He slips in a fourth while Jake is distracted, whimpering as Brandon teases at his hole with the wide breadth of his knuckles.

He starts moving again, shifting his chest from side to side, holding his breath and then letting it out in a startled sob. Brandon doesn’t know if it’s the angle or that Jake knows how it feels now, but the second one takes longer until Jake is jerking against Brandon’s hold. 

Brandon doesn’t interrupt him, Jake’s trying so hard it’s making Brandon’s vision tunnel just a little, his hand squeeze harder around Jake’s neck. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Brandon wishes he could look away from Jake’s tortured face long enough to admire the rest of him, thickly muscled and tense from the pain and so so desperate to please Brandon that he’ll do this.

Jake really does collapse when the other clamp comes off, and he yelps but can’t move enough to lift his chest away from the floor. He starts to beg, not for anything, just because he doesn’t know how else to articulate the feeling. 

Brandon fucks him like that, limp and utterly _done_ on the carpet of their bedroom, “Daddy, daddy,” getting pushed out of Jake with every thrust. Brandon comes fast and hard, dizzy and cursing and biting down hard enough to bruise on the muscle of Jake’s shoulder. 

He breathes, rolls Jake over while he’s still struggling to stop his chest from heaving and looks from Jake’s dick, red and curved up against his belly, still leaking despite how much he has to be hurting, to his nipples bruised purple and mottled red, his face soaked with tears.

“Daddy, please.” Jake rasps, and Brandon bites his lip so hard he almost breaks the skin.

For a split second, Brandon debates slicking up his fingers and opening himself up enough to ride Jake. The only thing that stops him is that he doesn’t think Jake is in any state to enjoy it, not with the rough, grabby curl of his fingers on Brandon’s upper arms, the sound of his voice. Plus, Brandon hasn’t been fucked in so long he’s not sure he even remembers how it works. 

He’ll save that for another day, get Jake nice and hot for it, stretch him open on a thick plug, tie his arms to his own body, and then get on top of him and ride him until they both can’t take any more. 

For now Brandon muscles his way in between Jake’s legs, lets Jake hump up against his belly, and isn’t at all careful when he gets his mouth on Jake’s chest, sucking and biting, sinking his teeth into Jake’s nipples, swollen and fat like a girl, so big they fit in his mouth even more perfectly than they usually do. 

Jake gets louder and louder the more Brandon works him over, cries that sound like pleas, the only word Brandon actually manages to make out is the low, desperate mantra of ‘daddy, daddy, daddy’ that comes out with every frantic jerk of Jake’s hips against Brandon’s body.

“Come on baby, you’re okay,” Brandon tells him, sucking another bruise into Jake’s pec, letting his mouth wander lower until Brandon has the thin skin along his side in between his teeth. It’s that little bit extra, the different bite of pain that makes him come. He’s crying harder, and Brandon smooths his hand over Jake’s head where he’s soaked with sweat and scorchingly hot, burning up. 

Brandon gathers him close into his arms, waits Jake out, letting him cry until the tears start to slow and then stop. Something about Jake always just feels lighter after they do this, something in Brandon does too, like he was holding something back and letting it out was a relief. He's not really sure, he just knows he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to go back to the way it was back then at the beginning when Jake came to him on his knees and begged to be looked after. 

Brandon gets to look after him now, bundle him up into a blanket and get him settled comfortably against Brandon’s chest, coaxing him to drink and eat something and not try to hide his face in Brandon’s chest when he can't help the tears again. 

He sleeps as dead to the world as a baby that night, wakes up riddled with bruises, hissing if Brandon so much as thinks about touching him. 

Jake can’t bear to put on a shirt for two days, even with Brandon meticulously applying balm to his bruises and cream to his chest. 

Brandon ignores the guilty voice in the back of his mind that says he got what he wanted. 

Brandon and Jake don’t talk about the way Jake is always so careful not to get caught without a shirt. 

(The same way they don't talk about the looming end of Brandon’s contract and the Canucks dismal season.) 

But Jake carries that lightness into the locker room and for a couple of days, every room he walks into is infected by it, by the smile on Jake’s face that makes Hutts crack up everytime he catches sight of him. Brandon thinks maybe Jake doesn't ever want to stop doing this either, seems to be saying it in the way he leans into every kiss and clings to Brandon in the mornings and grins at him across the bench after every shift.

**Author's Note:**

> This scene was inspired by a line in one of the Wine & Song books by Eleanor Kos. She wrote the full scene in the book after that and it was GREAT. By that point this was already finished, Dani actually started writing it when she came to visit at the end of 2016 in the car on a road trip to San Antonio. Some of it was even done in a Buc-ee's while we bought snacks. But it was that one line that inspired allll of this.
> 
> The title is from Jo Jo Like This because is anything more Jake and Brandon than: He told me that he like this, he like this/  
> He wanna take his time with me, like this


End file.
